


Nightmare on Repeat

by QuillEnvy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/M, Guilt, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9317108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillEnvy/pseuds/QuillEnvy
Summary: This is another Lione and Samson ficlet. The premise of this is that partaking of the Well of Sorrows is causing the Inquisitor to loose her grip on reality. Since Samson was captured, Dagna is studying him to try and figure out what was done to him to make him the "vessel" and able to contain the power of the Well.I always thought that Samson was a good person, he was angry and felt betrayed by a order that he had given his life too. He didn't deserve the treatment he received at Meredith's hands. I also think that if Samson had been at any other circle rather than Kirkwall, he would have done well and probably gained rank.I like to think that he can be "redeemed" or shown that infecting the world with the blight was not the way to go.Like always, any mistakes are my own. This fic has not been beta read.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is another Lione and Samson ficlet. The premise of this is that partaking of the Well of Sorrows is causing the Inquisitor to loose her grip on reality. Since Samson was captured, Dagna is studying him to try and figure out what was done to him to make him the "vessel" and able to contain the power of the Well.  
> I always thought that Samson was a good person, he was angry and felt betrayed by a order that he had given his life too. He didn't deserve the treatment he received at Meredith's hands. I also think that if Samson had been at any other circle rather than Kirkwall, he would have done well and probably gained rank.  
> I like to think that he can be "redeemed" or shown that infecting the world with the blight was not the way to go. 
> 
> Like always, any mistakes are my own. This fic has not been beta read.

The ground was wet and soft. Thick, grey fog covered the landscape making it hard to see anything because it glowed. Strangely, Lione heard battle all around her but it never seemed to come closer no matter which direction she went. She needed to find the others. They had to finish collecting bodies so they could be properly burned. She moved forward calling out names of the team she had brought with her this time. No one answered. Lione took another step forward and her foot came down on something soft. Losing her balance, she fell to a knee. Peering at the ground she saw she had stepped on a body, it was the elderly elf from Redcliffe. She had taken flowers to his wife’s shrine.  Lione’s heart sank. He had seemed a kindly man and genuinely surprised that she would help him, and he had been so grateful that she had.  The recruitment of the Templars seemed to be a huge mistake now. She should have gone to the mages. There had been children with the mages.  The days where they found children were the worst. No one spoke much on those days. Lione placed as small flag next to the corpse so it could be found again when the fog cleared. She stood up and continued to walk forward.  Dimly she wondered why she was wondering around looking for corpses but it was overwhelmed by the need to keep going. Keep searching. That need would pound with every heartbeat, every footstep.  Then she heard Varric. His voice was strained and Lione though he could be wounded. She had some healing potions; she hurried to where she thought his voice was coming from.

“Varric?” she called out. “Where are you? I can’t see a thing in this fog.”  But he didn’t answer again. Lione was worried.

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra’s voice rang out from somewhere to Lione’s left. She turned to the sound and started to run. She was lost in this infernal fog and suddenly felt terrified.  The ground grew more sodden the farther she went. Water welled up from the muck Lione was trying to run through. She was thrown to her hands and knees. The water was warm and heavy. This wasn’t right. She lifted her hands close to her face and realized they were slick and shiny with blood. She scrambled back to her feet and started to run again. Soon the blood was so deep she couldn’t run anymore. Bodies floated on the surface and reached out to snag her with rotted hands. Sunken eyes stared at her and dead lips hissing “Why, why didn’t you save us?” Lione closed her eyes and a broken sob escaped her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” She cried over and over. When she opened her eyes her friends were around her Bull was missing a horn, an arm was over his abdomen holding in his insides.  Something touched her back and it was Vivenne, her head and chest crushed inward, her eyeball swinging gently against her ruined cheek. Then they were all around her, wounded in a way that meant death. Cassandra clutched at a sword through her abdomen. Sera had been burned, her blackened flesh peeling away from her bones. Blackwall carried his head in the crook of this arm. Varric was holding Bianca, mangled and splintered, his throat had been torn out the bloody gashes reaching to his navel.  They stared at her with accusing eyes.

“You,” Varric hissed, his voice was a wet ruin. “This is your fault. You let this happen!” The rest of her friends started accusing her as well, “Your fault, your fault!” they chanted.  They crowded around her, grabbing her clothes and hair until she couldn’t move way. Lione covered her face and cried.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” she wept.

They pushed her down in to the lake of blood and Lione tried to scream. She opened her eyes and shouted at the face inches from hers. Cole scrambled back to the end of the bed, wrapped his arms around one of the posts and perched on the foot-board.  Solas stood up and closed the book he was reading, laying it on the couch.

“Finally awake.” He said in that even tone he had.

Lione nodded and swallowed. “Nightmare” she croaked.

 Her skin was covered in a fine layer of sweat. The bedclothes twisted around her legs and hips. She sat up and rubbed her face.  Solas was holding a mug with steam curling from the rim. He held it out to her and smiled. Lione looked at his face, it looked odd, his smile a touch to wide, his teeth a hair to sharp.  She took the mug looking at the warm dark liquid. Tea? Solas hated tea.  There was something else that was strange as well. She couldnt remember when she had last spoken to him. Solas was… and the thought slipped away before she could catch it.

“Drink.” He commanded.

She raised the mug to her lips, Cole leaning forward watching her intently. As she tilted the mug a heavy wet smell hit her nose, a smell she would recognize anywhere and she jerked back as blood hit the quilt.

“No!” Cole shouted and leapt at her, righting the mug before any more of its contents spilled. He grabbed the back of her head with one hand and forced the cup to her lips with the other. The rim of the heavy earthen ware vessel smashed her lips against her teeth. He wedged the cup between her teeth and cut her lip. Her blood mingled with what was already in the cup. Solas stood by the side of the bed with an angry look on his face. Cole’s eyes were glassy and wild. He was so strong, and she was so tired. Lione struggled with Cole and choked on a mouthful of blood. Lione finally got a hand up to knock the cup away. It hit the bed and bounced off,an arc of blood hitting the floor with a sickening slap, the mug landing a moment later with a sharp crack. The spill of blood looked so much bigger than the cup would have been capable of holding. Cole changed his tactics, wrapping his long fingers around her throat, pressing the heels of his hands into the base of her throat, to choke the life from her. She gripped his wrists trying to pry them off. Her vision went grey then black.

She jerked upright. Another nightmare, filled with death and blood and guilt. She looked over at the sleeping form next to her. In the dim light from the dying fire, she could make out Samson lying on his stomach, arms curled around his pillow, bunching it up. The covers were down around his waist. His mouth was slightly open and his eyelids were fluttering. She hoped his dreams were better than the ones she had experienced. Lione rubbed her eyes and threw the bedcovers to the side. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slid off.  Padding over to the fire place knelt down and stirred the embers to create some heat. Samson enjoyed sleeping with one of the balcony doors open. The cold mountain air helped him sleep soundly. There were so many mornings she woke to find herself buried in the covers, shivering because Samson had woken in the night and opened one or both of the balcony doors. Her legs began to feel numb so she stood and walked back to the bed. Lione climbed back up on it and looked at Samson again, he had rolled over onto his back. He was awake and gave her a sleepy lopsided smile, holding his arms open to her she smiled back and crawled over to him to be enfolded into his embrace. She smiled at that, he always wanted to hug her close, as if to convince himself that she was real. She loved to come up to her suite after getting back from a long trek numb and half frozen to curl her chilled body around her Templar. He could thaw her better than any bath.  His skin was always warm; it was as if a fire burned in his blood.  Lione supposed it was from the red lyrium. He nuzzled the skin behind her ear and nipped it with his lips. It made her shiver and tilt her head to give him better access.

“I must be getting better at this huh?” He rasped, his voice permanently ruined from red lyrium.

“I need you to chase the nightmares away.” She said. “I need something real. Something solid and warm. Safe.”  Lione shifted to lie on his chest and look into Samson’s eyes. Once they were hazel. Now they were a pale gold, the whites of his eyes were still slightly red from the blighted lyrium. They seemed to be clearing. That was good. Samson might not agree.  She bent her head down until their noses touched.

“You are real? This isn’t another dream?”  Lione breathed against his lips. “I am not sure I could survive dreams of you like the ones I have of the others.”

Samson reached up and stroked his thumbs along her cheeks. “I am real as I can be, Li, sometimes I don’t feel as if I am solid until you touch me. We are here now.”  He pulled her head down a few inches farther and kissed her with tenderness he didn’t think he would have ever been capable of again.

 


End file.
